


The Ship in Trafalgar Square

by RavenWhitecastle



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), wholock - Fandom
Genre: BBC, F/M, Gen, Wholock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/RavenWhitecastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have dealt with missing persons cases, but never like this! A strange new client comes to them asking for their assistance in finding a very special man. The question is, can they track him down when he travels all of time and space?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock, please," she begged. "You've GOT to help me! There's no one else in the 'verse that can find him."  
Sherlock looked out the window at the wet, rainy streets of London. "What makes you think that I can find him when no one else can?" he asks her.  
She chuckles humorlessly. "Please. You're Sherlock Holmes. You're the most beautiful mind of the century. If anyone can find him, it's you."  
Sherlock smiled at her and winked. "Well, I can't argue with that.  
~  
Tuesday, September 7th, 1:30 p.m.  
Sherlock was in Trafalgar Square with John when it happened. John had been eating chips and reading the paper like he always did. Sherlock was people watching. It wasn't something he did often, but nothing had turned up since John had shot the cabbie killer. The "Study In Pink" had been one of his greatest accomplishments, although John's blog had not done Sherlock's deductive skills justice.  
"You know, it really wasn't that easy."  
John looked up suddenly from his paper. "What wasn't?" he asked, utterly confused.  
"The 'Study in Pink.' You kept saying that it as a piece of cake for a genius like me, which it should have been. But I was too blind to even see the cab driver as a possibility until it was too late. He'd already killed dozens of people."  
John let the paper fall into his lap. "Sherlock, he'd killed five."  
"Yes, which was at least two I could have saved from that psychotic serial killer. To me, that's dozens."  
John was incredulous. "When you heard about the 'serial suicides,' it was like Christmas for you. Mrs. Hudson is still wondering when a murder will come along to 'cheer you up.'"  
"Either way, I can't believe I didn't see it sooner." He shook his head. "And YOU'RE the one who shot him, why didn't you mention that on you blog?"  
"What, and get myself arrested? Thank you, but I'd rather not."  
Sherlock went back to pondering the cabbie's last word. This Moriarty character had Sherlock puzzled, and anyone who knew Sherlock knew that it took quite a bit to puzzle him. It was like Moriarty didn't exist. The man was a ghost.   
Sherlock had been contemplating Moriarty's existence and watching a woman with a stroller fighting with a man in a sweater vest when he saw it. It was just for a second, but it was definitely there. A shine, a sparkle. Something metal. Titanium, perhaps? It was too shiny to be silver or gold, and it definitely didn't belong in Trafalgar Square.  
"John," he said.  
"Hmm?" John said distractedly as he scarfed down another chip.  
"Did you see that?"  
"See what?"  
"No, of course you didn't, you were too busy..." Sherlock looked at the paper with disgust, as if it was his brother, Mycroft. "You were too busy READING."  
"See what?!"  
Now he had John's attention. He smiled discreetly and pointed. "That there. That glimmer." There it was again.  
John gasped. "I DO see it." He folded up his newspaper hurriedly, crushing the police blotter between the sports section and the telly guide. Sherlock cringed. That was the only section of the paper he DID read. John squinted. "Blimey, what IS that?"  
"I haven't the foggiest," Sherlock said. It wasn't something he said often, but this time it was the truth. He stood, buttoning up his black jacket and tightening his scarf. A cold wind had picked up from the North. It would no doubt start raining by three. "Come on," he said, walking briskly across the cobblestone. "Let's go find out."


	2. Chapter 2

1:35 p.m.  
When John and Sherlock finally reached the other edge of Trafalgar Square, a small crowd had gathered. Sherlock wasn't the only one who'd noticed the glimmer and gotten curious. There was at least three feet between the crowd of people and... WHATEVER it was.  
Sherlock pushed his way through the crowd roughly, dragging Watson with him. Sherlock ignored the protests of the bystanders while John apologized profusely, saying "Excuse me" and "Sorry" over and over again.  
When they reached the edge of the crowd, even Sherlock skidded to a halt. There, sitting in the middle of a now destroyed flower bed, was what looked like a small rocket. The metal was definitely titanium, although how it ended up in the middle of 21st century London in a flower bed was beyond him. How a ROCKET ended up in 21st century London was a complete mystery.  
With new resolve and an unnatural curiosity, Sherlock pushed forward into the three-foot gap. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please." The confused murmuring stopped. Watson gave him a startled look. "My name is Holmes, I'm an ambassador for the British museum." Sherlock dug a black pocketbook out of the inside of his jacket and held a gold badge up for everyone to see. "This is just a new art exhibition for the grand opening of 'The 23rd Century' art symposium. It wasn't supposed to open until Tuesday, but there's been some miscommunication. If you would all just move along, there's nothing to see here."  
A few grumbles came from the mass of onlookers, but they all reluctantly walked away. John ran up to him and said, "You never cease to amaze me, Sherlock. Where'd you get an ambassador's badge from the British museum?"  
Sherlock held the badge out to John. "I didn't." John took it and examined it closely. "Plastic. I found it among some old evidence files and thought it might come in handy. Average minds are so easily fooled. They always take authority for granted."  
John shook his head. "Sherlock, you're going to get yourself sued one of these days..."  
Sherlock was no longer paying attention. He had started studying the odd metal capsule that had wrapped itself around an oak tree in the middle of the flower bed. The geraniums were crushed. "John, call a cab."  
"Why?"  
"The art symposium doesn't start until Tuesday," Sherlock said as a matter of fact. "We need to get this back into storage at the museum where it belongs."  
"Sherlock, you don't actually work for the-" He stopped abruptly. Then he smiled. "Oh. Right. The museum. Absolutely."  
As John scampered off to find a taxi, Sherlock rolled his eyes. John was a good colleague. He would even go so far as to call John a friend. But it was absolutely miserable being a completely brilliant mind in a completely average world. He'd only ever met one other person who had a mind as magnificent as his. Absentmindedly, Sherlock wondered if he would ever meet that mind again.


	3. Chapter 3

2:41 p.m.  
It was a hassle getting the rocket into the trunk of the cab. John had complained that Sherlock should have been able to memorize every detail of the rocket just by looking at it. Sherlock was a mastermind; why couldn't he deduce everything about it withOUT unwrapping it from around the tree and hauling it into the trunk of a cab?  
Despite all of John's complaints, Sherlock still deposited it into the trunk of the taxi and dragged it up the stairs to his flat. He needed to get inside of it and tear it apart. The only way he would be able to do that was in the silence of his own apartment. Well, the semi-silence of his apartment, what with John clinking away making another cup of tea.  
Back in the flat, the rocket took up most of the living room. Sure enough, John was making another cuppa, chattering away about the latest sports wins.  
"I'm telling you, NObody expected Man United to pull through that!"  
"John," Sherlock said exasperatedly from under the engine panel, "I TOLD you that the Chiswick team was unprepared for Keith."  
Sherlock shook his head. He would swear on his life that John had selective hearing. With another sigh, he turned back to the mess of wires underneath the engine. Past all the colored cords, he could see a rotary system with a fuel-efficient converter. But the wiring was shot. No wonder the little ship had been wrapped around the oak; the fittings had been swapped out for an incompatible material. The rest of the machine was titanium; these fittings were copper and brass. The landing gear looked like it could use oiling, and more than six fuses were blown.  
With a determined grunt, Sherlock grabbed and pulled on the squiggly mess. Wires popped out of sockets, and sparks started flying.   
John, who had just walked into the room, flinched and yelped. "JESus CHRIST, Sherlock," he exclaimed.  
"Out of this world," Sherlock murmured.  
"What is?"  
"This ship. It's out of this world."  
"Well, it certainly is shiny," John added, sitting down in his favorite chair and setting his cup on the table. "But I wouldn't say that it's 'out of this world.' Since when did you start using American idioms?"  
With difficulty, Sherlock crawled out from under the rocket and sat cross-legged on the floor. "No, John, it's LITERALLY out of this world. It's not from this planet."  
John gave him that dubious look again. Sherlock had gotten so used to it, it hardly fazed him anymore. "You're joking, right?" John asked. "You ARE joking?" Sherlock didn't say anything, instead, wiping a grease stain from his favorite purple shirt. Bloody hell, he'd just had it dry-cleaned last week...  
"Oh my god, it's out of this world," John said breathlessly. And the light goes on, Sherlock thought with a smirk. John stood, limping around the crumbled little capsule. "It's alien! It belonged to an alien!" He pointed at the rocket in disbelief. "There was an ACTUAL alien inside that thing!"  
"Yes, John, there WAS," Sherlock said, standing up and wiping his hands on an old rag he'd found (in the same box as the plastic badge, no less). "And whatever was IN that rocket is now roaming the streets."  
John looked at him. "What?"  
Sherlock pointed at a torn wall of the ship. "Look at the metal. It's warped only a little bit. The tree didn't do that. Whatever was inside that thing pried its way out." He sighed. "And now it's running wild in the middle of London."  
They both stared at the scrap of metal in silence. The doorbell rang suddenly, and they both jumped. Sherlock looked at John, who looked down the stairs and then back at Sherlock. Sherlock dropped the now oily rag on the floor and took the stairs two at a time.  
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a rather attractive young girl, a blonde, about five foot seven, with shining blue eyes and a shy smile. She was wearing black combat boots over dark green army pants and a light green quarter-sleeve shirt. John walked up behind Sherlock and said, "Hello,"  
She smiled mysteriously at John. She stuck her hand out to Sherlock and said, "Hi, I'm Jenny. You must be Sherlock, and I believe that you have my spaceship in your flat."


	4. Chapter 4

2:57 p.m.  
Jenny sat on the couch with Sherlock drinking John's cup of tea, which he hadn't touched since he'd realized the ship was extra-terrestrial. John was watching her warily, unsure what to make of the little girl who claimed the spaceship was hers. Sherlock studied her closely, watching her every move. Jenny set the cup down on the coffee table and sighed heavily. "I suppose I owe both of you an explanation."  
"Yes, an explanation of why your spaceship ended up wrapped around a TREE in Trafalgar Square and how you found it in the living room of MY flat would be nice."  
Even Watson, who was in a dazed stupor, snapped out of it long enough to glare at him. "Sherlock!"  
Jenny smiled and held up a staying hand. "It's all right." She leaned back and crossed her legs. "I believe, Sherlock Holmes, that you met a man called 'The Doctor.'"  
Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. Watson just scoffed. "I'm a doctor. Are you talking about me?"  
Jenny shook her head. "I assure you, Mr. Watson, the Doctor is someone completely different from you in many aspects." She turned her attention back to Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes?" she said softly.  
Sherlock had stopped listening. That was a name he hadn't heard for a very long time and hadn't expected to hear again for even longer. It had been many long years since he'd met the Doctor. The mysterious man had disappeared in his funny blue box, leaving Sherlock alone on the doorstep of his home. He'd never expected to see or hear from the Doctor again.  
"SHERLOCK!" John snapped. Sherlock looked up, startled. "Jenny asked you a question."  
"Yes," he said. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Yes, of course. Do go on."  
"I asked you if you'd heard from him recently," she said.  
Sherlock shook his head. "No, I... I haven't heard from the Doctor in a very..." He cleared his throat. "A very long time."  
Watson leaned forward in his chair. "Wait, you mean you know what she's talking about?"  
"Of course I do," he grumbled. "I've got a life outside solving homicide cases, you know."  
Jenny's face was downcast. "He hasn't contacted you at all?"  
"No. Nothing. For seven years, nothing."  
John was shaking his head, eyes squinted shut. "Wait, wait, wait," he stuttered. "Who is this 'Doctor?' And no offense, but what has it got to do with you? What do you MEAN, 'seven years?!' And who the hell are you, Jenny?!"  
By the time he finished, John was red in the face. Confusion had gotten the better of him, and Sherlock knew John didn't like being confused (even though he was the majority of the time).  
Sherlock stood up and went to the window, pushing the curtain aside. He had almost expected to see the odd blue box sitting in the alleyway across the street like it had been all that time ago. His heart sank when he didn't see it.  
Rain started to fall as he began speaking. "Seven years ago, before you came back from Afghanistan and before I became a consulting detective, the most brilliant mind in the universe appeared on my doorstep."  
John blinked. "I thought YOU were the most brilliant mind in the universe."  
Sherlock sighed. "No, John. Unfortunately, I'm not. I am only the most brilliant mind in the world. But the Doctor..." Sherlock let the curtain fall shut, dimming the room from the faded light of early afternoon. "The Doctor was a genius."  
Slowly, as if time had caught up with him and he had aged several years, Sherlock walked over to the bookshelf, reaching for a leather bound journal. John had often seen it tucked in between the German dictionary and a quartz bookend, but he'd never asked what was inside.  
Sherlock continued. "He showed up in the middle of the night and told me that I would save lives someday, that I would be important." The journal fell from the shelf into his hands, sending up a small cloud of dust from the years gone by. "But he told me that first, I needed to be shown something much bigger and much more important than I or him or any one of us."  
John listened with rapt attention as Sherlock walked back to the couch and settled next to Jenny. "He took me away in his clever blue box, which was also not from this Earth," he said. "Another spaceship, or something like it. It was, believe it or not, dimensionally transcendental."  
"Dimensional what?" John inserted.  
"Transcendental," Sherlock repeated. When John gave him a blank look, he explained, "Bigger on the inside." Jenny smiled at the stunned expression on John's face. "Oh, for God's sake, John, close your mouth," Sherlock snapped, "you look like a fish."  
Jenny curled her legs up underneath her and looked back at Sherlock. "What did he show you?" she asked.  
Sherlock sighed. "It was something I would never forget. He showed me the end of the world." Sherlock's eyes glazed over as he remembered watching the Earth getting consumed by fire. "I watched the Earth end," he said quietly, "and it made me realize how totally insignificant we are." He looked down at the journal in his hands. "Not that a time machine didn't make me feel insignificant," he added.  
"Wait, a TIME machine? It's not JUST bigger on the inside, it can TIME travel?!"  
Sherlock chuckled. "Oh, John, the things you haven't seen." Sherlock stood again, handing the journal to Jenny. "That was the Doctor's," he said, pointing at the old book. "He gave it to me, to always remind me that life is short. It's what inspired me to study, learn more, become a genius. I wasn't just BORN with a beautiful mind, it took a little blood and sweat and tears."  
Jenny had stopped listening. She stroked the cover tenderly, with tears in her eyes. A single one slid down her cheek, and she smiled fondly, as if remembering someone she loved very much.   
"I... assume you know the Doctor?" Sherlock inquired.  
Jenny looked up and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do." She held the journal to her chest as if she never wanted to let go.  
"A close friend of yours?" John asked.  
Jenny laughed half-heartedly. "Oh, he was much, much more than that," she said. "He was..." she paused, her voice breaking.  
Sherlock finished her sentence for her. "He was your father."


	5. Chapter 5

Watson was watching both of them very carefully. There was a tangible emotion in the air- not tension, just anticipation.  
Jenny sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Yeah," she whispered. "Of course you would know that."  
John was stunned. Normally, people just looked confused and asked John if Sherlock did this on a regular basis. But this girl seemed completely unfazed. (Once he thought about it, he realized that her father was a time-traveler, and she was an alien. For her, Sherlock Holmes must have been a walk in the park.)  
Jenny flipped open the journal to the first page and read the title out loud. "Journal of Impossible Things?" she asked.   
Sherlock nodded. "That was his. He told me to hold on to it, as a reminder that things aren't always as they seem."  
John scoffed. Even HE knew that. He shared a flat with a high-functioning sociopath, visited crime scenes every day, and lived every moment wondering what Sherlock would do or say next.  
Sherlock sat down next to Jenny on the couch. "You can keep that, if you like," he said gently. "I don't need it anymore. I haven't touched it in ages."  
Jenny shook her head and handed it back to him. "I don't need it. Besides," she continued, brushing her hair out of her face, "I was hoping that you would be able to help me find something. Or rather, someONE."  
Sherlock looked at her suspiciously. "So, you're not just here to retrieve your ship? Which, by the way, is completely useless."  
Jenny sighed. "I know. Poor thing. It was barely holding together. It took all I had to land it in the Square where I knew you would find it."  
"So you've been watching me," Sherlock said coolly, without taking his eyes off her.  
"Well, Sherlock Holmes, you're not an easy man to find. And neither is he." Jenny turned in her seat to face Sherlock directly. "That's where my request comes in. If you want me to pay you, I can find the money somewhere. Or I can work for you, whenever you need me. I don't care."  
John was watching their debate like it was a tennis match. The score was deuce.  
"And what exactly is your request?"  
Jenny took a deep breath. "I need you to help me find the Doctor."  
Sherlock laughed out loud and stood.  
Jenny pleaded with her eyes. "Please, Sherlock, you've got to help me! There's no one else in the 'verse that can find him!"  
Sherlock looked out the window at the rainy streets of London. "And what makes you so sure that I can find him if no one else can?"  
She chuckled humorlessly. "Please. You're Sherlock Holmes. You're the most beautiful mind of the century. If anyone can find him, it's you."  
Sherlock smirked. "Well, I can't argue with that." He turned back towards Watson. "What do you think, John?"  
John had been so caught up in the argument, he didn't notice that Sherlock had addressed him until Jenny blinked. "Oh, what do *I* think?" Sherlock nodded. "I don't know. I don't know anything about what's going on. Who IS this Doctor fellow?"  
Sherlock rubbed his temples, circling them with his index fingers. "I TOLD you, John, he's a time-traveler. He's an old friend of mine, he's THIS girl's father, and she's asking us to find him!"  
"Yeah, and he took you to see the end of the world." John leaned back in his chair and gestured wildly with his hands. "Sherlock, if he's a time-traveler, how on EARTH do you expect to find him?!"  
Sherlock shared a look with Jenny. They both smiled deviously. "I have a plan."


	6. Chapter 6

John shivered against the cold. Popping his collar, he wandered over to Sherlock, who was helping Jenny fix the spaceship.   
"Explain to me again why we couldn't fix the spaceship while it was still in the flat?" he asked bitterly. "Where there's a fireplace? And fresh tea?"  
Sherlock's head popped out from under the titanium capsule. "Because we need it to be in perfect condition for this to work. We didn't want to risk damaging it by dragging it down the steps." His mass of curly brown hair disappeared back under the rocket, which was now pointing skyward.   
John rubbed his shoulders vigorously, trying to regain feeling in his upper arms. "Right. Okay. And WHAT isn't going to work if the spaceship doesn't function perfectly?!"  
It was Jenny who magically appeared this time, still in her quarter-sleeve t-shirt and perfectly comfortable inside the little vehicle with its personal heating system. "We need to shoot this into the sky to attract a lot of attention. Sherlock and I agree that if there's a serious threat to the people of London, the Doctor's bound to show up sooner or later." Her blonde ponytail bounced as she wedged herself back inside the rocket.  
"So, that means we're going to pose an actual threat?"  
Sherlock wheeled out from underneath on a little skateboard he'd found among the evidence files. "Of course not. We'll just put on a little show and make a little noise so people THINK there's an actual threat."  
"And exactly do we plan to do that?"  
Jenny stood, rocking the ship. She smiled excitedly as she answered. "We're going to fly over London and set off some fireworks, of course!"  
John was clearly dubious. "ACTUAL fireworks?"  
Sherlock tapped his chin thoughtfully with a wrench, smudging his face with oil. "Not exactly. I have some black powder explosives tucked away in the coat closet..."  
John threw his hands up in the air with exasperation. "Of course you do. OOOFFF COURSE you do."  
Jenny laughed. "Don't worry, John. Everything's going to be fine. Sherlock and I have got this timed perfectly, so NOBODY gets hurt."  
Sherlock scratched at a black scratch on the titanium plating. "Why exactly are you so desperate to find your father?" he asked.  
Jenny stepped gracefully out of the ship, leaning against the side of it and wiping her hands with a rag. "In case you haven't noticed, things have been a little tight." She gestured at the shot wiring dangling from the bottom of the rocket. "I had to scrape together those pieces just to get her here. I was trapped on a mining charter for two months trying to save enough money to buy fittings."  
John scratched his head, stumped. "Okay, you've got a rocket ship made of titanium. That's got to be some kind of futuristic technology. If you're from the future then how did you get here to find us?"  
Jenny looked up at the sky as if remembering. "I hitched a ride with a Captain Jack Harkness. Handsome fellow. Bit of a tease." Her gaze leveled with John's. "He could time travel, too. He just had a different way of doing it. He's human." She sighed. "He picked me up on the mining charter and zapped us to this year. His destination was Australia. I had to fly my way from there."  
Sherlock looked around the nose of the ship. "You FLEW this thing from AUSTRALIA?!"  
Jenny nodded vigorously. "Yep."  
"How did you manage to NOT fall into the Indian Ocean?!"  
Jenny shook her head. "It wasn't easy. I nearly crashed in Morocco. I managed to land in a small, indigenous village. They thought I was a goddess, so they brought me some of the parts I needed to fix my rocket and make it here." She looked down at her dirty nails, crusted with oil. "It was barely enough, but here I am."  
John shook his head. "I don't believe it. Sherlock, HOW are you believing all of this?!"  
"You keep forgetting, John, I've seen the beginning of the universe. I've been inside a time machine that has more rooms than Buckingham Palace and can fit in the alleyway between Sofia's hair parlor and the White Point Star Hotel. I may be skeptical, but I'm not stupid."  
John was taken aback. "Are you calling me stupid?"  
"Of course not. I'm just saying that I've seen things you haven't." He disappeared underneath the rocket again, polishing the blades of the rotary engine.   
John nodded. "Yeah, he's calling me stupid."  
Jenny studied him, one elbow on the cone of the ship and one hand on her hip. "How do you put up with him every day?"  
A muffled "I heard that" came from below them. Jenny ignored it and waited for a response.  
John looked off into the distance, where sunlight appeared to be breaking through. "I don't know," he started, squinting at the horizon. "I guess it just takes my mind of the war. Afghanistan, if you were wondering," he added. "I was a soldier over there until I was wounded."  
Jenny nodded understandingly. "I was a soldier."  
He looked at her. "Really?"  
She chuckled. "I thought the combat boots and army get-up would have been a dead giveaway."  
He looked her up and down. "Is that what soldiers wear in the future?"  
Jenny leaned back to look at her outfit. "Yeah. I thought it was kind of stylish."  
John smiled. "I don't think it's bad. I kind of like it." Jenny caught his look and blushed.  
Sherlock banged on the wall of the rocket. "Could you two stop flirting and help me out? I asked for a screwdriver ten minutes ago!"  
Jenny leapt into action. "Oh, sorry, Sherlock." She plucked a yellow-handled screwdriver from Sherlock's tool kit and placed it in his open hand. "Here you go."  
There was a sound of metal scraping against metal and then he rolled out from under it. "Okay, Jenny. Get inside and rev the engine."  
Watson flinched as if he expected to be arrested any second. "Sherlock, are you sure this is a good idea?"  
"Of course it's a good idea. Why WOULDN'T it be a good idea?"  
"SHERLOCK," he shouted. He succeeded in drawing a few angry stares. John lowered his voice and continued, "We're in the middle of a parking lot that's HARDLY abandoned like you said it was. If things go south, we could get sued or worse."  
Sherlock waved him off casually. "Don't be silly John. It's going to be fine. Besides, don't you want a chance to impress her?"  
Her being Jenny, John flushed an angry shade of pink and walked backwards to avoid the explosion that was bound to occur.  
Jenny jumped in with a childish grin and waved at John playfully before closing the capsule shut behind her.  
Sherlock knocked on the metal three times. "Are you all right in there, Jenny?"  
There was a muffled "Yeah!"   
"Okay, fire it up!" Sherlock ran back to stand next to John, who was pointedly avoiding looking at Sherlock.  
The engine coughed and sputtered angrily. John muttered, "I think this is a bad idea..."  
Sherlock elbowed him. "If she dies, then we won't have to worry about finding the Doctor anymore."  
John attempted to burn holes in Sherlock's head with his eyes. When that didn't work, he chose to growl, "Are you really that heartless?"  
"Of course I'm not. I hope this works just as much as you do."  
The engine coughed a few more times until finally, the rotary engine sputtered to life and a steady hum erupted from the capsule.  
Cheering and laughter came from inside the rocket, John hollered and jumped in the air, and even Sherlock cracked a smile. People were watching as the lights on the outside of the rocket came on, one by one. John shook his head in disbelief. They had fixed a rocket. A real, proper rocket. His anger was gone, replaced by sheer excitement. He hoped that the big day went as smoothly as their test run, but for right now, they were heroes. His hatred for Sherlock forgotten, he exchanged a wide, boyish grin with his high-functioning sociopath of a friend.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, they all awoke well-rested and confident that their plan would work, and that the Doctor's clever blue box would be parked across from 221B by that afternoon. Jenny had theorized that once they'd shown off the rocket and made a lot of noise, they could bring the rocket back to Sherlock and Watson's flat, where the Doctor would follow it and find Sherlock, John, and Jenny waiting.  
As they rode in the taxi to a storage lot in Wales (where the rocket would launch from), Sherlock sat in front, leaving John alone with Jenny in the backseat.  
John cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Jenny cast sideways glances at him every few seconds. Sherlock was making small-talk with the cabbie, clearly trying to avoid whatever may happen between John and Jenny. John tried not to hate him for it; he was doing his best to be human.  
Summoning up the courage to speak to her, John opened his mouth and began, "I don't suppose..."  
At the exact same moment, Jenny opened HER mouth to speak. "So what is..."  
They stopped, chuckling nervously. Jenny fiddled with her hands in her lap and murmured, "You first."  
John coughed into his elbow and tugged at the color of his knit sweater. "What are you going to do when you find your dad?"  
Jenny stared out the window thoughtfully. Yesterday's storm had since moved on, although the sky was still a gray shade of overcast. "I'm not really sure," she pondered. "Maybe I'll ask him for money." She smirked cleverly. "Isn't that what human daughters do?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously.  
John laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is."  
Jenny studied him. "Do you have kids, John?"  
He laughed. When she gave him a funny look, he swallowed it and said, "Not married. No girlfriend, either." She made a sympathetic sound. "I haven't been able to keep a girlfriend around for more than a day since I moved in with 'im."  
Jenny smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry."  
John shrugged. "I'm not." Jenny looked quizzical. "I mean, I'm sorry that I can't keep a girlfriend around, but I'm not sorry that I met and moved in with Sherlock." He casually draped his arm over the back of the seat. "My life has been one adventure after the other since. I wouldn't have it any other way."  
Jenny smiled fondly, remembering the Doctor, no doubt. "I know the feeling," she said. As she brushed the hair out of her eyes, she sighed heavily. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about him." Her voice was soft and lilting, and just a little bit sad. John studied her as she spoke. "We only knew each other for a very short time."  
John was, once again, very lost. "How long?"  
"Only 24 hours." His jaw dropped. Jenny laughed. "It's kind of a complicated story."  
"Try me."  
Jenny did, enthusiastically launching into the tale of her creation. She spoke of the machine that made her, about the war between the humans and the Hath, and about how she'd taken a bullet for her father. John nodded, understanding her motive. He'd taken a bullet for his country, more or less. He'd come home from Afghanistan wounded in one leg, traumatized and plagued by a psychosomatic limp. It had disappeared after he'd met Sherlock. Jenny then spoke of her father's heroics, her death, and her resurrection. She told him about flying away in the titanium rocket and all the adventures she'd had in the years since.  
Jenny was retelling her adventures on some of the surrounding planets that had been terraformed and inhabited by strange, wild species for the duration of the cab ride. John listened with rapt attention as she described a bartender on PocMot G, who had the head and paws of a bear, the legs of a kangaroo, and the tail of a peacock.  
She had just begun to recount a fight that took place in the bear/kangaroo/peacock's bar when the cab skidded to a halt. "We're here," Sherlock said abruptly, tightening his scarf and stepping out of the cab.  
Jenny closed her mouth and smiled sadly. "I guess the story will have to wait for another time," she said.  
When she moved to open the door, John stopped her, grabbing her arm gently. She looked at him suddenly, and he felt rather foolish. "I don't suppose... um," he stammered. "Is there any chance that you'll stay?"  
Jenny smiled widely at him and squeezed his hand. "I don't know, John. But I'll come back. I promise."  
And when John saw the glimmer in her eyes, he knew that she was telling the truth.


	8. Chapter 8

At exactly 9:45 that morning, John and Sherlock dropped Jenny off at the storage lot in Wales. She would fly the rocket into London, scrape by Big Ben, fire off the fireworks, and land in the almost-not-quite abandoned parking lot where they'd tested the engine. John and Sherlock would be waiting with a taxi, and the rocket would be carted back to 221B where, with any luck at all, the Doctor would be waiting.  
As Sherlock made his final checks on the engine, Jenny and John stood nearby. Jenny was leaning against a warehouse door, and John couldn't help but notice how the color of her shirt brought out the blue in her eyes.   
Jenny caught him staring and punched him playfully in the arm. "Oi, don't look so sad," she teased. "It's not like I'm never going to see you again."  
John nodded and chuckled. "No, of course not. It's just... I mean... what I'm trying to say is..." He sighed dejectedly and smiled. "Sorry, I... I've never been all that good with words."  
Oh, I wouldn't say that," she said. "I've read your blog. It's really quite intriguing."  
"You like it?" His ears perked up like a dog's when it heard it's name.  
Jenny nodded and took his hand. "Yeah, I do. And that's not the only thing I like."  
John was about to ask her what she meant when Sherlock approached them. "Well, it looks like everything's in order," he said, clapping his hand conclusively.  
"'LOOKS like?' Are you absolutely sure? Did you double check EVERYTHING?"  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. He threw a pointed look at Jenny and said, "John tends to forget that I'm a genius, of COURSE I've checked everything twice."  
John was about to protest when Jenny kissed him on the cheek, stunning him into silence. "I'll see you back in London," she whispered in his ear. Then, she bounded away and, with a final wave goodbye, disappeared into the capsule.  
Sherlock shouted, "Race you to the parking lot!" and grabbed John's hand, dragging him back to the taxi. "Come on, John, if we leave now, we might be able to make it back in time for the fireworks show."  
John's eyes were fixed on the little titanium rocket. "Are you sure she's going to be okay?" he asked.  
"Of course she'll be okay, John, now..."  
John cut him off, tearing his gaze from the spaceship and staring Sherlock down. "Tell me the truth. Are you sure that she's going to make it? Is this safe? Am I ever going to see her again?"  
Sherlock withdrew from the cab, one hand on the door and one hand on Watson's shoulder. "I swear on my life that Jenny we'll be okay. She's a spectacular girl, John. Obviously you've noticed." John blushed furiously. "You will see her again. And when you reunite her with her father, you'll be her hero. Trust me."  
John cast one more doubtful look at the rocket before relenting. "All right, Sherlock. I'm trusting you."   
Sherlock ducked into the cab and John climbed in after him, shutting the door behind him. Sherlock told the cab to take them back to London and slipped him a fiver. "We came out here for a picnic. You didn't see anything." The cabbie nodded and revved the engine.  
As the taxi drove away, John heard the hum of a rotary engine and the roar of an explosion. He whipped back to see the bottom of the rocket on fire. "Sherlock!" He grabbed Sherlock's arm desperately and pointed. "Look!"  
Sherlock looked out the back window and nodded. "Yes, John."  
"We've got to stop the cab, it's..."  
"On fire, just like it's supposed to be, have you EVER seen a rocket launch?" Sherlock huffed and adjusted his sleeve. "Honestly, John, you spend so much time on that laptop of yours, I'm surprised you don't have all of them memorized."  
John watched as the rocket lifted off from the ground and flew up into the air He watched until he could no longer see it among the gray clouds over Wales, and even then, he didn't take his eyes off the sky.


	9. Chapter 9

Two hours later, John and Sherlock were sitting in Trafalgar Square, where they had agreed Jenny would set off the last of her fireworks before returning to the parking lot. Sherlock sat on a bench reading the paper (for once) while John paced impatiently.  
"Are you sure we haven't missed it?" he said, checking his watch for the hundredth time.  
"Yes, John."  
"What if she's already gone over? What if she's waiting for us at the lot?"  
"She's not scheduled to fly over the Square until noon."  
"Maybe I should go to the lot and check..."  
"JOHN." Sherlock's stern tone caused Watson to stop pacing and look at him. "Everything's going to be fine. We're right on schedule."  
"And how do you know that?!" John snapped, taking a seat next to Sherlock. "How do you know for sure that she's not dead in the middle of the Thames?!"  
Sherlock sighed, closing the newspaper and, holding up one blacked gloved hand, began counting off the ways. "One, I saw a police car come past here about twenty minutes ago, no doubt to check out the mysterious UFO sightings in front of Big Ben. She was scheduled to fly in front of the clock twenty-five minutes ago. Two, if she was in the Thames, there would be an ambulance and probably a lot more authority headed in that direction. And three, hear she comes now."  
"What?" John looked up at the cloudy sky and, sure enough, there was Jenny's little rocket, swooping low over the fountain and spiraling back up. There were gasps and a few screams all around them, and John stood to watch in wonder as explosions trailed behind her. The spaceship was graceful, just like Jenny, spinning in little circles and leaving traces of black smoke and gold sparks all over the sky. Glitter (an interesting touch and one that probably wasn't Sherlock's idea) rained down on the Square, startling tourist and delighting the little children. Parents dashed after their kids, reprimanding them and pulling them towards the exit. A final explosion went off, and the children cheered, clapping and waving their day caps around in the air. John smiled as the rocket sped off into the distance, headed in the direction of the parking lot where they were meant to pick her up.  
Sherlock tapped him on the shoulder and nodded towards the street. "Come on," he said, walking away. "Let's call a cab. We don't want to be late for Jenny's arrival."  
CHAPTER 9  
Exactly on time, Jenny landed the rocket in the parking lot (which was now empty due to the little convenience store being closed) just as Watson and Sherlock pulled up to the lot in the cab. Sherlock told the cabbie to hand on a minute and followed John to the standing capsule. John was banging frantically on the titanium. He wasn't going to rest until he saw Jenny's smiling face.   
"All right, all right!" Jenny said, as she piled out of the vehicle and into John's waiting arms. "I'm fine! That was fantastic! Brilliant, my dad would say!" She shared a smile with Sherlock and then turned her full attention on John. "See? I told you I'd see you back here." She held out her arms and twirled. "All in one piece."  
John laughed and applauded her performance. "You were amazing!" he said. "Absolutely amazing!" Jenny and John hugged again. laughing giddily.  
After a few seconds, Sherlock cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt your... MOMENT," he said, "but I doubt I'll be able to get this rocket into the trunk of the cab myself."  
"Oh, right."  
"Yes, of course."  
The three of them went about hauling the little spaceship into the trunk while the taxi driver, bewildered, looked on. Sherlock slipped him a few extra pounds for not seeing anything and told him to take them to 221B Baker Street. Just like the first time, Sherlock sat in front while John and Jenny sat in back, this time, hands intertwined. They didn't say a word the entire trip.  
The cab pulled up to the apartment building, where Sherlock paid him in full and waved him off. Jenny and John stood on the sidewalk, laughing about some odd thing, when Jenny suddenly stopped. Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened.   
John eyes her suspiciously. "Jenny? What is it? What's wrong?"  
Jenny pointed to the alleyway. "It... It's HIM," she stuttered.  
John looked, and sure enough, there was a funny little blue box. Just like Sherlock had described it. It was a police box, from the 1980's. John couldn't believe his eyes. "Your dad?" he asked. Jenny only nodded.  
Sherlock peeled off his gloves and shoved them in his pockets. "Well, that didn't take him very long."  
Sherlock dashed across the street, and Jenny and John followed. Jenny still couldn't speak. John could imagine. She hadn't seen her father in God knows how many years. She'd just pulled a publicity stunt, and all of a sudden, there he was.  
Sherlock went to knock on the door of the box when John stopped him, grabbing his wrist. "Let Jenny do this," he whispered.  
Sherlock lowered his head and stepped back. "Of course." He gestured for Jenny to step up to the door. "Will you do the honors?"  
Jenny slowly walked up to the police box, and reached out to touch the painted wood. She stroked it gently, smiling. She held her fist up to knock, then paused. She looked back at John, as if asking for permission. John nodded and whispered, "Go ahead."  
Jenny's hand fell against the door once, twice, three times. There was a muffled, "I'm coming, I'm coming" from inside, the sound of scuffling feet, a creak. The door opened.  
Jenny stepped back. A man in a tweed jacket, a bowtie, and brogues stood in the doorway. His face lit up when he saw Sherlock. "Sherlock Holmes! Oh, I haven't seen YOU in a long time! My, how you've grown."  
Sherlock nodded politely. "Seven years is a long time."  
The man, presumably the Doctor, beamed and looked at John. "And Mr. Watson! I see you've finally met your companion!" The Doctor took John's hand and shook it vigorously.  
"Colleague," John said stiffly. "I prefer the term colleague."  
"Yes, yes, of course you do," the Doctor said. He turned to face Jenny. "And who might this..." His voice trailed off. His smile disappeared. Jenny eyed him, looking him up and down as if she'd never met him. "Jenny." The Doctor's voice was hoarse, and he sounded like he was going to cry. "It's you."  
Jenny's eyes were wide, and the corners of her mouth were turned down. John had expected her to be excited about seeing her dad again. But she didn't seem excited at all. If anything, she seemed frightened.  
The Doctor took Jenny by the shoulders as if to make sure she was real. "But you..." he said, "you were..."  
Jenny finished for him. "Dead."  
The Doctor nodded mutely. "You died that day, Jenny. How did you...?"  
The question hung in the air unfinished. "I was just like you. Pure TimeLord."  
The Doctor's face flooded with understanding "You regenerated."  
Jenny looked him up and down. "As have you... dad." She nearly choked on the word.  
The Doctor grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. I guess it's a bit of a shock, to see your old dad like this." Jenny smiled. "You haven't changed at all! Look at you! My beautiful girl." The Doctor embraced her, and Jenny buried her face in his shoulder. "My daughter," he whispered.  
Jenny's shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. John stepped forward to comfort her, but Sherlock held him back. John looked at him, and Sherlock shook his head. Dejectedly, Watson stepped back, watching as the Doctor stroked Jenny's hair, shushing her and saying fatherly things like, "I'm here now," and "I'm not going to leave you again."  
John swallowed the protest that was forming. From what he knew of the Doctor (which was very little), he wasn't going to stay long. And if he didn't plan on leaving Jenny, that meant he was going to take Jenny with him.


	10. Chapter 10

A few long minutes later, John, Sherlock, Jenny, and the Doctor were in the living room of the flat. Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen making tea and snacks for the party. All they had told her was that Mr. Smith had just been reunited with his daughter; it was very emotional for them, and John had personal connections with the case. (I DO have personal connections with this case, John wanted to shout, but he restrained himself from speaking further.)  
"It's so nice to see a parent and their child together again," Mrs. Hudson blathered on, pouring tea into all of their cups. "You've both done such wonderful work, and now you've helped out one of John's friends! How lovely!" Mrs. Hudson set the tea down on the tray and rubbed her hands together. "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need anything." Before she walked out, she patted John on the back. "Congratulations on another successful case, John."  
John nodded dumbly and murmured thank you. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the Doctor and Jenny, who were energetically catching up on "old times." They continued to trip over each others' words, flipping between their 24 hours together and their hundreds of other adventures so quickly that John couldn't keep track. Sherlock just sipped his tea in silence, but John could see Sherlock glancing his way every so often out of the corner of his eye.  
Finally, after the most exciting topics of discussion had been covered and conversation had slowed to a halt, Jenny and John made eye contact. John looked down at his tea and added another sugar cube (even though the tea didn't need it), and Jenny brushed the hair out of her face. John tried not to think about how adorable she was when she did that, instead clearing his throat and directing his focus at the Doctor.  
"So," he said, stirring his tea, "you're a time traveler."  
The Doctor grinned boyishly. "Yes. Exciting, isn't it? I don't suppose you'd..."  
Sherlock cut him off, clearing his throat and shaking his head.  
"Oh, right," the Doctor said.  
"What?" John looked back and forth between his friend and the mysterious alien stranger. "Would I what?"  
The Doctor adjusted his bow tie and gestured wildly with his hands. "Well, there's this thing called the time vortex, and I was going to ask you if you would fancy a trip, but if I did, I'd be tearing apart the whole of reality, so I can't really do that. My apologies."  
John nodded, confused but not anxious for any further explanation. "Okay."  
Sherlock leaned forward in his chair. "So, Doctor. Where are you headed off to next?"  
"Oh, I don't know. I think that decision is up to Jenny."  
Jenny's face lit up, and John couldn't help but wince. "Really?" she gasped. "You're going to let me choose?"  
"Of COURSE I am!" the Doctor replied, putting his arm over Jenny's shoulder. "What kind of a dad would I be if I didn't?"  
John closed his eyes and breathed. In, out. In, out. Am I really jealous of her FATHER? he thought to himself. I really AM losing it. No, I'm not crazy for being jealous. He's going to take her away from me. Maybe Jenny's right. Maybe being with Sherlock really IS a curse. I can't keep a girlfriend for more than 24 hours. The first one got kidnapped, this one's an alien... John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. I'm in love with an alien. If I don't see her again, the problem is solved. She flies off with her dad, and I go back to solving crimes with a high-functioning sociopath. What more could I possibly ask for?  
"John?" Sherlock said. John looked up suddenly. "We're going to walk Jenny back to the TARDIS."  
"Oh, right," John said, rubbing the migraine from his eyes. "Of course."  
Rain had started to fall ever so softly on the sidewalk as they walked out of the building. Mrs. Hudson shouted her goodbyes from her room and waved them out the door. "Come again soon!" she said in a sing-song voice. John resisted the urge to yell at her that they wouldn't be coming again, that they would NEVER come again. The Doctor waved goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, and Jenny thanked her for the tea. Sherlock popped open his umbrella and held it out to John. He took it, gratefully, and stared down at the ever-darkening pavement.  
They reached the TARDIS and the Doctor opened the door. He stepped halfway inside before Jenny stopped him. "You and Sherlock head inside," she whispered, "I need a moment with John."  
"A moment? Why do you need a moment? What good is a..." The Doctor looked at John and saw the despondent expression on his face. "Oh, THAT kind of a moment."  
"YES, dad, THAT kind of a moment," Jenny said condescendingly. "Now shoo." She pushed the Doctor through the door, and Sherlock followed him inside.  
"I'll only be a minute, John," he said as he winked.  
John wanted madly to punch him in the face, or hit his head against a brick wall, or shoot something. But Jenny was approaching him. Target practice would have to wait.  
"So," she said, shoving her hands in her trouser pockets.  
"So." John felt a kind of finality in the words. There wasn't a lot more that needed saying, if anything at all.  
"Look, I..." Jenny started. She struggled to find the words. "I know we've only had a short time together, but I just wanted to say... I've loved it."  
John looked up from the ground. "Really?"  
Jenny nodded, her hair (now loose from its ponytail) bobbing up and down. "You're an amazing man, John Watson. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." She gestured at the TARDIS, indicating Sherlock. "Especially that one."  
"Oh, trust me," John said with a smile. "I NEVER let him tell me otherwise."  
He expected Jenny to laugh, but she took his free hand in hers. "I've seen the way you look at him," she said quietly. "He means the world to you, and so does his opinion of you. But you've got to stop trying to impress him. Because, believe it or not, you mean the world to him, too."  
John scoffed. "Now you're just talking nonsense..."  
Jenny shook her head. "I'm not. He values your friendship, John. Promise me you won't ever stop believing in him." John opened his mouth to protest, but Jenny stopped him. "Promise!"  
"I promise!" John said, a little too loudly. Jenny shrank back, and John sighed. He squeezed her hand and whispered. "I promise."  
Jenny nodded, and laughed. "I'm going to miss you, John Watson." She stood up on her toes and kissed him on the lips. He reveled in it, kissing her back and forgetting the world and the TARDIS and the Doctor and Sherlock. Nothing else mattered.  
When she pulled away, his eyes were still closed, but they flew open when the door to the TARDIS creaked open. "Jenny!" he shouted.  
She stopped, looking back to face him, one eyebrow raised in question.  
"Am I ever going to see you again?"  
Jenny smiled mischievously and winked. "Goodbye, John."  
The door clicked shut behind her, and a few moments later, Sherlock stepped out. "Goodbye, Doctor! I'll expect you to deliver my message!" As he shut the door, he smiled. "That impossible man," he muttered to himself. He turned to look at John, then walked out into the street. "Stand back, John."  
"Wha-... why?"  
"You're going to want to stand back."  
John walked back to stand next to Sherlock and turned around. The rain was coming down in torrents now, but they were both safe underneath the umbrella. There was a sudden gust of wind and a loud whooshing noise. It was beautiful, and John was mesmerized by it. The TARDIS seemed to fade away, it's opacity decreasing with every passing second. With a diminishing sigh, the TARDIS disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but a few scattered newspapers in its wake.  
Sherlock rolled his shoulders, cracking each joint in his back. "John, what do you say we go see old Sal for lunch? He tells me he's put a new dish on the menu in my honor. Or maybe we should go to China town. I want to get one of those lucky cats to put on the mantle..."  
Sherlock continued to blather on about lucky cats and sandwiches and the like as he walked away. He didn't even notice that John wasn't following him until he reached the front step. "John?"  
Sherlock looked back into the street, where John was still standing, dazed. He had let the umbrella drop to the pavement, and his black jacket was getting soaked. "John," Sherlock said.  
John turned back to face him, his expression hollow and blank.  
Sherlock held his hand out to him. "Come inside."  
John looked back once more at the place where the TARDIS had stood only moments ago, then finally lifted the umbrella back up and walked over to the flat. Sherlock took the umbrella from John and popped it shut, saying, "You'll catch your death out there in the rain. Now, I thought we could invite Lestrade to come along. I know how much you like his company..."


	11. Epilogue (SPOILERS)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After "The Reichenbach Fall" and "The Wedding of River Song" (Sherlock and Doctor Who respectively)  
> Spoilers for both.  
> The case is solved, but many events have taken place in the months that follow. Sherlock has faked his death, and so has the Doctor. Where does that leave John and Jenny?

John stood in front of the gravestone with two words written on it. Two powerful, impossible, ridiculous words. They weren't even proper words. They were just titles. "Sherlock Holmes." Mrs. Hudson could be heard sobbing as she walked away, her heels clicking on the pavement. John moved closer to the grave, brushing a few remaining drops of rain off the rock. It was a stupid memorial, he thought to himself. Even Sherlock would have said so. "Why do we put a rock above our bodies? It's just rock. Mineral compounds melded together to create a solid slab of meaningless atoms. And yet, we use it to commemorate our deceased friends. Stupid idea, who's idea was that?!"  
Watson smiled sadly. "You told me once that you weren't a hero... um... There were times I didn't even think you were human, but, let me tell you this; you were the best man and human... human being I've ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. That... uh... there." John took a shaky breath. "I was so alone...And... I owe you so much. Look, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead." He choked on the last word. With a dark resilience he plowed on. "Would you do that, just for me, just... stop it. Stop this!" John almost started to cry. He couldn't believe that Sherlock was gone. He couldn't believe that his best friend was really gone.   
John felt a presence next to him. He looked up and saw a shadowy reflection in the glassy stone. "Sherlock?" He whipped around to see. Had his best friend heard his request? Was he back?  
"No," Jenny said. "It's only me."  
John's shoulders sagged. "Oh." He shook his head. "Sorry, I mean..." He closed his eyes. "It's good to see you."  
"You don't have to pretend," she said, taking his hand. "I know you're upset. I just wish there was something I could do to bring back your friend."  
John looked around. "Is your dad here?"  
Jenny shook her head. "Believe it or not, he's gone, too."  
John stared. "No..."  
Jenny nodded. "I was at a bah mitzvah for one of my friends and... I just knew. I got a letter from him later. He'd sent it, before he..." She coughed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Dad told me to come and find you. He told me what happened." She paused. "I'm so sorry, John."  
He shrugged. "Not your fault."  
"I know."  
They stood for a few more minutes, looking at the meaningless piece of rock before walking away, hand in hand. There was nothing more that needed saying. Nothing more to be said. Words meant nothing that day. They meant no more than a solid slab of meaningless atoms melded together. There were no more words to be said that day. But maybe another day, a brighter day, a happier day, words would come to mean something again.  
~  
Somewhere near the edge of the cemetery, Sherlock stood, watching as his only friend in the world walked away, hand in hand with the Doctor's daughter. He tried to keep the tears from coming, staring resolutely at John's back, but he couldn't help it. Tears streamed down his face, and he wiped them away with his gloves.  
Behind him, a sudden gust of wind picked up, and a loud wooshing noise disturbed the morbid silence of the cemetery. A door creaked open, and a low voice said, "I'm not dead."  
Sherlock almost smiled. "Neither am I."  
The Doctor came up behind Sherlock and put a hand on his shoulder. "You know he needs you."  
"No he doesn't, he's a soldier. He can survive."  
"There's a difference between surviving and living, Sherlock."  
"What about your daughter? How long were you two apart?"  
"She still lived. She's strong. John's strong, too, but not without you." Sherlock had no reply. "You know you can't leave him behind forever."  
"He's got Jenny now..." Sherlock began.  
"He needs YOU." The Doctor was vehement.   
Sherlock's jaw clenched, not in defiance, but in pain. "I can't go back. It was for his own protection. I died to save him."  
The Doctor turned Sherlock to face him. "And now you've got to come back to save him."  
Sherlock's eyes briefly flicked to the Doctor's Stetson before he replied. "I wish I could, Doctor..."  
"Of course you do, but you're afraid."  
"I am not!"  
"Of course you are, don't try and fool yourself. You're scared of what he'll think of you. You're afraid that he'll hate you." The Doctor circled him as Sherlock stared straight ahead. "But if you never come back, you'll never know. And if you never know, then that could mean anything. That could mean that you're still John Watson's hero. Or it could mean that he dies hating you. He could hate you for being a fraud. Or..."  
The Doctor stopped, face to face with Sherlock, staring into his eyes.  
Sherlock finished the sentence for him. "Or he could hate me for leaving him."  
Sherlock stopped. John and Jenny had disappeared through the front gate of the cemetery, where a taxi was waiting.  
The Doctor nodded, tipping his Stetson in salutation. "Now you've got it." With a final pat on the back, the Doctor walked back to his TARDIS. He called over his shoulder, "The world needs you, Sherlock Holmes." The door to the TARDIS creaked open. The Doctor stepped inside. "And so does he."


End file.
